


The Penitent Man Kneels

by tisfan



Series: Imagine Tony and Bucky 2016/2017 [34]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Beads, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage and Discipline, Collars, Gags, Kneeling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Tony Stark, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sex as Therapy, Spanking, Therapy, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vibrators, crippling self loathing, having necessary conversations the hard way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: in retrospect, it should have been obvious that Tony was in trouble... the outfit, the boots, the pet name, the expectation that Tony should be on his fucking knees...Tony Stark isn't always observant.Tony's been a bad boy, and Bucky aims to correct his behavior.





	The Penitent Man Kneels

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: How bout a lil NSFW? Bucky leaves Tony tied up (like the works, rope/gag/blindfold/plug/ring/vibrator/etc) for a number of hours while he goes about his day/runs errands/what-have-you and comes home to a very desperate boyfriend. It's all worth it for the grand finale though. Bucky's always real good to Tony after all. Please and thanks!
> 
> ** warning for disturbing emotional content; Tony has some serious self-loathing issues, and it can be a bit triggering

 

Any other sane person would have realized that they were in trouble moments after opening the door. But sanity wasn’t one of Tony Stark’s defining characteristics. Also, he was pretty bad about the whole schedule-oriented thing. And, in his defense, Bucky almost always wore dark colors anyway; the dark reds and blues did wonderful things for his stormcloud eyes and sharp cheekbones.

That he was wearing all black and _those_ boots probably should have clued Tony in that Bucky felt he was owed an apology. Except then Tony would have had to figure out what for, and he really didn’t know. Friday usually reminded him of important events -- he’d missed Pepper’s birthday a few times before he figured that one out -- but sometimes, especially when he was deep into an engineering sinkhole, he forgot that he’d been reminded.

Besides, Bucky should have figured that one out by now; he wasn’t as smart as Tony -- not very many people were and it was a thing he accepted about the world -- but he was no slouch and pattern analysis was a pretty basic science. If there was something Tony was supposed to remember, chances were good, he wasn’t going to.

So, Tony didn’t really notice when he stumbled out of the elevator into the penthouse.

Bucky was sitting in the red Fendi Casa chair, facing the door. One booted foot on the floor, the other ankle resting against his knee. Hands casual, gripping the armrests. The mental arm highly polished and the shifting light glinted off his hand as he drummed his fingers.

“Hey, babe.” Tony shot the greeting over his shoulder on the way to the penthouse’s kitchen, because Friday always gave Bucky a head’s up when Tony crawled, staggered, or otherwise entered the building’s elevator, which meant there was usually fresh coffee. Bucky was very good to him, Tony thought. He hardly deserved it, most days.

While the kitchen smelled of coffee, fresh brewed and dark, the pot was empty. Boo.

“I have your coffee, pet,” Bucky said. He made a simple gesture toward the cup on the end table near Bucky’s chair, and even that wasn’t enough for Tony to clue in. In retrospect, it should have been. The nickname, the outfit, the expectation that Tony was supposed to be on his goddamn knees. All completely obvious.

Tony missed it, right up until he took that second swallow and noticed that Bucky hadn’t stood. Hadn’t greeted him with a kiss.

And he did _not_ look happy.

“Oh, hell.” Tony peered into his coffee cup and took the rest of it in one long swallow, ignoring the stinging pain in his tongue and throat from the hot liquid. Bucky was already pissed, which meant Tony was going to need that caffeine. “What did I do this time?”

***

Bucky wasn’t telling, and that was worrisome. It meant that it was both bad, and that Bucky expected him to figure it out.

His genius brain spun along possible scenarios; he didn’t have lots of time. Bucky’d directed him to the bedroom and given him twenty minutes to make him ready. Quick shower and a bit of attention to choice bits of his anatomy that Bucky might want extra clean. Dried his hair, ditched the contacts because he’d had problems with wearing them during a punishment session before. Got his collar, cuffs, ankle cuffs, and leash out of the drawer and put them on.

When his time was up, Tony was on his knees, naked, hands pressed on the floor, forehead resting on the back of his hands, spine a perfect curve.

And he still didn’t know what he’d done. It wasn’t their anniversary -- either of them, the wedding had been in September, and they’d started dating in February. It wasn’t Bucky’s birthday, that was March. Or even his own, which he’d been known to ignore.

JARVIS might have known, but JARVIS was long gone and Friday hadn’t quite developed the same amount of initiative. Bucky wouldn’t punish Tony if Friday had volunteered a suggestion, but if Tony _asked_? No, bad plan.

Tony was pretty sure he hadn’t called Bucky by the wrong name; that had happened. Hell, Tony made up pet names for people on the fly just to keep that risk at a minimum. It had been more of a problem in his love-em and leave-em days, when he was trying to remember if the latest blonde supermodel on his arm was a Britney or a Bethany. But it had only taken Tony once accidentally calling Bucky by Steve’s name instead to implant the notion never, ever to do that again.

Bucky came into the room, walked over and twisted into a squat in front of Tony. “That’s a good start, pet. Do you know why you’re being punished?”

 _Fuck_ , he wasn’t ready. That deep, sinking feeling in his stomach got worse. He _hated_ disappointing Bucky. Hated that he was constantly screwing up. The only good thing about it was that Bucky knew that he was a fuck up. _Knew_ that and took Tony on anyway. And by the time his punishment was over, Tony would have some sort of absolvement.

“No, sir,” Tony admitted, listening to the way his voice was already shaking. Usually he had some sort of idea, or when he thought about it for a few minutes, he’d remember. This time, he was completely at a loss.

For the first time since they’d started playing this game, this desperate, necessary, absolutely not a game… Tony thought about safewording out before they even got started.

Bucky huffed a sigh, waited a few minutes, possibly to see if Tony was going to squirm, or if he was going to use his safewords, then, “Check in with me.”

“Yellow,” Tony admitted. “I don’t… sir, I don’t know what I did.”

Bucky put a hand under Tony’s chin and lifted his face. “I’ll give you one,” Bucky said. “You skipped your therapy appointment. Twice. Once and I wouldn’t complain, because you couldn’t help the R&D fuckup. But you didn’t reschedule, and you missed this morning’s, too.”

The concern in Bucky’s eyes was more painful than the spurt of guilt. _God damn it_.

“Check in.”

Fuck. He fucking deserved it. He’d promised. Therapy was ridiculous mumbo-jumbo, slightly down the list from Strange’s brand of crazy and stupidly advanced Asgardian magitek. But he’d also _promised_ Bucky he would go when the nightmares and the panic attacks started making an appearance again.

(The really annoying fucking thing about it was that when Tony was actually putting the work in, it… worked. Not all at once, and he backslid, but not waking up thinking he was back in the cave, or free-drifting in space three times out of four was a damn relief, and even Tony would admit it.)

“Green.”

Bucky jerked his chin. “Hop up on the platform.”

Tony got to his feet, graceful and straight, the way Bucky had taught him. Kept his chin down, hands at the small of his back.

Bucky’s hand went into Tony’s hair, pulling his head back. “No. You _own_ it, pet,” Bucky was practically snarling in his ear. “You don’t take care of yourself, you give me that smug face.”

Climbing up on the platform, Tony went back to his knees on the padded surface. All around the edges and a few choice spots, were various hooks and fasteners. On the side, a dozen or so spreader bars of various lengths. The tool box in front of him, laid out with Bucky’s choice punishments. The crop. A remote controlled vibrating plug. Beads. A gag and a flower.

Bucky prowled around Tony a few times, looking at him from all angles. Tony kept still, not twisting his neck even though he wanted to. Bucky lifted the crop and twirled it between his fingers like a drummer.

“You proud of yourself, pet? Think you’re too strong to need help?”

Tony flinched, even before Bucky struck him with the crop, sharp against his thigh. “No, sir,” he said. His breath sped a little, expecting a second blow for what Bucky was going to know was a lie. Tony always backslid there. Always thought he could fucking _handle_ it. Hell, he was handling it, it was handled.

Instead of a blow, Bucky twisted, kissed the red spot, licked at Tony’s skin. It burned and then soothed. “You don’t have to be strong for me, baby,” Bucky told him. Bucky was some fucking poster boy for psychological care and had come out the other side like he was a member of a goddamn cult.

“Give me your wrists.”

Bucky locked the D-rings together on Tony’s leather wrist cuffs. Grabbed a small spreader and used it to secure Tony’s biceps, just over the elbow. The bondage made a pretty, perfect triangle, and Bucky pushed him, light and slow, into position, until Tony’s elbows were resting on the floor, hands loose, wrists together. Locked him down. Clipped Tony’s collar to the spreader bar, kept his chest pulled down. “I want you lookin’ up, baby, the whole time. You look at yourself if you’re not lookin’ at me.”

Bucky had dragged the full length mirror over and Tony was face-to-face with the one person he really didn’t care to look at much. Himself.

He settled for watching Bucky in the mirror instead; he moved behind Tony and used a wider spreader to shove Tony’s legs apart. He used a length of leather strap to connect the two bars, putting Tony on his knees, legs wide, ass on display. Bucky ran a warm hand up Tony’s thigh, pressed at that bruise for a moment, continued on to cup the curve of Tony’s ass.

“So…” Bucky rounded to the front again. “Choice time, pet.”

He touched the string of beads, each one larger than the one before it. They’d used beads before, It was one of Bucky’s favorite tools to use on him, to push the beads in and tug them out until Tony was writhing all over, aching and dying to come. This was a new one, brilliant pink with five beads on it and a wide, rounded base.

“You want to offer me an explanation for the bullshit you’ve been pulling recently, or do you just want to do penance?” Bucky asked. “If we do penance, I’ll use the gag, the beads, and the crop. I’ll tell you what you did wrong, and you’ll pay for it. Or, we can talk this out. I’ll use th’ remote, and you’ll get a nice reward for bein’ brave and honest.”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder. “Or we can mix it up, if you want. Take some penance, and if you feel like you’ve had enough, we can talk.”

 _Ug_. If Tony wanted to talk, he’d have gone to his fucking shrink. Easy choice, Bucky-boy. “Penance.”

“A’ight,” Bucky said. There was only the slightest hesitation there; Bucky had really wanted Tony to talk to him, and Tony swallowed another mouthful of guilt. But Bucky would make him pay for it, and maybe in the end, that would be enough.

Bucky walked around him again, hand touching, tracing lines. He reached under Tony’s chest with his left hand, tweaked Tony’s nipple until it peaked under those cold metal fingers. Traced a line down the crack of Tony’s ass. He handed Tony the flower; their safe word when Tony was gagged. He had to hold the flower and move it when asked. If he was done, or it was too much, Tony would drop it.

Bucky picked through the selection of gags, then picked up a silicon ring-gag. Tony swallowed all the extra spit in his mouth. Not that it would do any good. Tony’d be drooling down his own chin in a few minutes anyway. But the ring-gag meant Bucky was planning to put something in Tony’s mouth, and that had its own appeal. Getting his mouth on Bucky’s cock was one of Tony’s favorite things.

“Open wide, pet,” Bucky said. He slid the circle into Tony’s mouth, holding his jaw at a just slightly uncomfortable degree and buckled it carefully behind Tony’s head. Once he got the ring in place, Bucky slid one metal finger inside, gently stroked the roof of Tony’s mouth. He shoved two in and scissored his fingers inside Tony’s mouth, brushing both cheeks and his tongue, then pulled his fingers out.

Tony was already drooling. God damnit, that wasn’t fair. He glared. Wiggled his tongue around, trying to sooth the vague itch left behind from the tang of metal on his tastebuds.

“Let’s start with therapy, then,” Bucky said. The crop whirled again and Tony had to force himself not to clench up. It always hurt more when his muscles were braced for impact, stupid as that was.

 _Smack_.

Tony shivered, but didn’t move. He could do this; Bucky was precise, ruthless, but always goal oriented.  He never struck Tony with an iota more force than utterly necessary. Of course, necessary was a flexible word. It might be _necessary_ that Tony’s ass be red and sore for the next two days. “I know you ain’t discussed actually quittin’ on therapy with your doctor, because you woulda tol’ me that, right away. So, this was you forgettin’, and then, once forgotten, you didn’t _want_ to remember.”

Truth. Because Tony fucking hated therapy. He had the worst time getting started -- memories of Bruce falling asleep on him had made it just that much harder to open up -- and then he had the worst time _shutting up_.

Sometimes it was a relief for someone to just listen, listen for God’s sake, that’s all Tony had ever wanted…

But listening wasn’t all that his therapist did. She’d ask him how he felt about things, what he thought was a reason why this or that bothered him. And she was ruthless about unpacking all the baggage that Tony’d bundled up over decades, shoved in a back corner of his mind, and tried to forget. That old emotional detritus was full of nasty things that bit and scratched. Tony wanted to leave it alone, just leave it, it was old and over.

 _Smack_.

“So, you just decide to drop it, because it’s hard. Baby, I didn’t know you were one to give up on hard work.”

Jesus, Bucky sounded very disappointed.

“Eyes on the mirror, pet,” Bucky reminded him, with another stinging smack of the crop. “Someone around here needs to remember that _you are worth it._ You’re worth fixing. You’re worthy of having peace of mind. And if it’s not you, baby --” _smack_ “--it’s gonna be me.”

Tony would have loved the blows to come harder, faster, that he couldn’t hear Bucky’s tone, so gentle and caring, between them. So all he could concentrate on was his stinging ass. He dipped his chin enough to wipe a trail of slobber across his forearm. Gave voice to a first, shaking moan.

“That’s one topic, pet,” Bucky said.

 _Just one?_ Tony managed a nod.

There was a soft snick, and then Bucky ran lube-covered fingers down Tony’s crack. The room was suddenly saturated in artificial peach scent -- flavored, then, which Tony barely got himself braced for, and then Bucky’s tongue was on him, flicking over his hole, which fluttered and twitched.

And then, jesus, Bucky pushed the first of the beads into Tony’s asshole with his tongue, flicking and licking at Tony’s pucker as the bead made its way into his passage. Tony whimpered, squirming desperately as the bead slipped in. _Eyes on the mirror, Stark_. Watching himself while Bucky brushed his tongue over his asshole was weird; he couldn’t help the faces he was making, the way his eyes rolled in pleasure, his chin slick with spit, the way his eyes kept drifting closed.

Another bead and Tony was already quivering. A third, and he was trying to keep himself still, so still, that they wouldn’t shift inside him. His cock ached, untouched. Complained a bit, and then -- oh, burning stretch there to accommodate the fourth bead. God, so full. One more. _Christ._

He was shaking his head back and forth, a wordless denial, he couldn’t do another one, oh, god, but his back arched and his hips rose without conscious decision. His body taking over, wanting, needing.

Bucky seated the wide end of the string against the raw, sensitive muscle of his rim. Licked all the way around the outside edge. Tapped the base, which sent ungodly vibrations through him.

Bucky left him there, the beads shifting with every quiver. Walked around to lift Tony’s chin. Wiped a bit of saliva off his face. “How’s that feel, baby? Good?”

Tony nodded, frantic. It could feel better. If Bucky was pulling them _out_. Preferably while sucking Tony’s dick while he was at it.

“So, here’s the other thing,” Bucky said, conversationally. “I saw your press conference today.”

 _So what?_ Tony lifted an eyebrow. Bucky rarely watched the PCs, they were boring business shit for the most part, and why the hell were they even talking about this when Tony had half a dozen beads _in his ass_?

“So, I’m wondering why you let Sam Stern take credit for your work in laser frequency stabilization. We both know his work was sub par.”

That was what Bucky was pissed about?

“You did all that work, baby,” Bucky continued. He stalked around Tony again and Tony watched him in the mirror. If Bucky smacked him while he had an ass full of beads, Tony couldn’t guarantee he wasn’t going to shoot off right then and there, untouched. “Stern didn’t do shit aside from read your goddamn notes over your shoulder.”

It wasn’t like Tony didn’t already have more awards for science than he could have shaken an entire bag’s worth of sticks at. Another one was pointless. Let Stern take the credit, it wasn’t important. Tony’s contributions--

“I got a surprise for you,” Bucky said. “I know, you didn’t want to make waves by accusing him of stealing your work. So, got a wave for you.” Bucky tapped the base end of the beads again, and oooooooooooooh, _jesus…_.

_They started vibrating._

“What do you think, baby,” Bucky said, talking low and rough in Tony’s ear. “You think I ought t’ leave you alone here and contemplate what you’ve done? Lettin’ a cheating’ sonofabitch like that steal your work? Lettin’ him get away with it? Did you do it because you were ashamed that he managed it, or because you don’t think you deserve the accolades? I can’t figure you out, baby. He stole from you, an’ you’re just lettin’ it happen? What… what do you think you owe that guy?”

Tony didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t _fucking know,_ but holy mother of god, he was going to die right here on the spot. He panted for breath, each exhale coming out as a desperate whine. He was frantic for some touch, but Bucky just stood there, watching him squirm and writhe.

Bucky stood, hands on his hips for a moment, and Tony was speared with panic. Bucky wouldn’t actually walk away, would he? Aside from the fact that it was Bondage 101 basic safety, _you did not walk away from a bound sub_. Ever.

“I got one more bone t’ pick with you, babydoll,” Bucky said. “And this one’s the most important one, so I want you t’ listen close.”

Jesus, how was he supposed to pay attention when he was riding the edge of orgasm with no end in sight? Tony moaned, panting for breath.

“This mornin’,” Bucky said, and there was a strange catch in his voice, like Bucky was hurt, somehow, and that dragged Tony’s attention away from his stinging ass and his stuffed full passage and his aching cock. “This mornin’, I told you I loved you. Remember what you said?”

Tony blinked. Hell, half the time he didn’t remember what he ate for breakfast, and Bucky said _I love you_ all the time, not that Tony would ever, _ever_ take it for granted, but it wasn’t… novel.

“You said, Tony, you said ‘I have no idea why,’ and then you _just left_.”

Oh.

_Oh._

For a so-called certified genius, Tony was one brainless fuckup. _Jesus_ , it was a wonder that Bucky stuck it out, sometimes, Tony was so prone to fucking up.

“So, see here’s the thing, baby,” Bucky said. He looked down at Tony with stormcloud eyes. “I’m wondering what you think you did, that you need to be punished for, because you’ve been going out of your way t’do things you know that I’ll hate. Bringing so much attention to how much you hate _yourself_. You think about that, and in th’ meanwhile, I got somethin’ for you.”

Bucky unzipped, pushing those too-tight black pants down his thighs.

Tony’s guilt and self-recriminations vanished in the sudden haze of hnnnnnng that went along with getting a good look at what Bucky had for him. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it was beautiful. Thick and long and getting longer as Bucky stroked himself, bringing himself to full. He tipped his head back, giving Tony a good view of his throat, that amazing jawline. Bucky’s cock was fully hard, dark and swollen and Tony watched as Bucky continued to stroke himself.

Bucky’s eyes were shut tight as he masturbated, long smooth pulls along the shaft, some thumbwork over the crown. Tony’s eyes were drawn to the way Bucky scraped his teeth over his lower lip as he worked. He whimpered, a thin, pathetic sound. There was no way he could reach, but it didn’t keep him from trying, tongue poking out from behind the ring-gag.

At the sound, Bucky’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked at Tony a few times as if he’d somehow forgotten that Tony was there, bound and prepped and fucking waiting. Dying for it. God, he wanted his mouth on Bucky, his hands on him. Wanted that hot, wet mouth to kiss and lick and _taste_.

Bucky rubbed his fingers over the head of his dick, a glistening trail of precome sticking to the pads, and then he reached in, touched his fingers to Tony’s tongue, giving him a taste.

Tony didn’t have much to work with, his lips were held open, couldn’t get any suction, but he went to town with his tongue, flicking over Bucky’s flesh fingers, probing between them, licking at the delicate webbing. Bucky groaned, and the sound went straight to Tony’s cock. He couldn’t possibly get harder, the way his ass was buzzing, but damn if his cock didn’t try, throbbing in time with his heart.

Bucky gave a soft, heartfelt sigh, fucking Tony’s mouth with his fingers and straight up groaned as Tony curled his tongue between the two digits. He pulled his fingers out and traced a wet line down Tony’s cheek, just adding to the wet on his face, running down his throat. Bucky touched his thumb to Tony’s jaw. “Gonna fuck your mouth now, baby,” he told Tony, his voice as rough and throaty as if he’d already been swallowing Tony’s cock.

Bucky’s hands cupped Tony’s face, cradled his cheeks, fingers sliding behind his ears, and then Tony couldn’t do anything but deal with what he was given.

Bucky’s cock slid through the silicon ring, hard and heavy. Tony let Bucky control the thrust, shallow and slow, and he tried to let his tongue relax, but he couldn’t. Like the damn thing had a mind of its own, he pushed and prodded at the intrusion, tongue sloppy and wet. Tony was good at oral, great, really. He’d gotten a lot of practice, loved listening to his various partners groan and sigh for it, but like this, most of his talent was useless.

He took what Bucky was giving him; he couldn’t even swallow and the sounds as Bucky pushed in were wet, slick, obscene. His dick plunged in and out through the ring and Tony found himself chasing it as Bucky drew back, whining until Bucky rocked forward again. He couldn’t talk, but Tony found himself babbling anyway, a mouthful of vowels and desperate, needy sounds.

Bucky dragged his cock over Tony’s willing tongue, plowed his open, vulnerable mouth and Tony was squirming, his hips rocking uncontrollably, moving the beads in his ass, each buzz and twitch driving him more and more crazy. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t stay still and god, it was killing him. His cock was throbbing, leaking like crazy. He wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a puddle of precome under him. Tony could feel each drop as it bubbled up, then slid to the very tip before dribbling off.

Bucky kept one hand on his dick, guiding it into the ring with precision, but the other hand, his metal hand, wandered up his own body. He pushed his shirt up, and with a grunt, gripped the fabric in his teeth, keeping that glorious chest bared. He pinched at his own nipples, metal fingers flicking over the hardening flesh.

“That’s good, honey, so sweet for me,” Bucky said, crooning and Tony redoubled his efforts, wanting Bucky to feel good, needing it even more than he needed his own release.

Another soft, eager moan and Bucky’s hips jerked; his thrusts went from smooth and steady to a ragged combination of deep ramming strokes to rapid, shallow penetration. Tony groaned, flicked his tongue over Bucky’s dick and suddenly his mouth was flooded with come, thick and hot and sticky. There was nothing he could do with it; swallowing was near impossible. Some of it went down Tony’s throat, but most of it just dribbled down his chin, joining the puddle of salivia.

“You look well used, babydoll,” Bucky commented. He wiped Tony’s chin with one hand, then pushed his head down a little, let the rest of his spill drip out so Tony wouldn’t choke on it.

Tony managed a pathetic, grateful little noise and Bucky petted his hair, gently.

Bucky pulled his jeans back up, but didn’t zip. Waited until Tony was looking up again, then walked around behind him. He locked gazes with Tony in the mirror, hands on Tony’s ass. He squeezed, pushing Tony’s cheeks together, then released, moving the beads around.

God that was… oh, fucking hell. Tony’s mind and train of thought vanished in a white hot glare as the beads buzzed and shifted and teased and straight up fucking tortured him. He was whining in seconds, pushing his ass up as high as he could, begging. His hips shivered and his thighs quaked. Bucky took hold of the base, twisted, and Tony screamed through the gag, the sound wordless, inarticulate, but holy christ, it was…

The first bead popped out and Tony was on fire, oh, god, every inch of his skin was buzzing and electric sensation danced from nerve to nerve. He was pretty sure he was going to spill any second now, except that he didn’t, and Bucky waited until Tony stopped rocking against him, keeping utterly still, the _son of a bitch_.

Another gentle, slow tug and that bead dragged itself, buzzing and shuddering, over Tony’s sweet spot, caused his whole body to quiver with uncontrollable pleasure, radiating out from his ass all the way to his toes and fingers. A third bead and Tony’s dick jumped so hard that he felt it smack into his belly.

“I got you, baby,” Bucky said, and then he did. Warm, wet fingers closed around Tony’s aching cock, and oh, christ, but all Bucky did was hold him, loose and easy, not giving him any pressure and every time Tony attempted to shift against him, Bucky’s grip got even looser.

“Squeeze down, baby,” Bucky crooned, dropping a wet kiss on Tony’s cheek, and Tony was sobbing as he complied, the buzz worse and better and wonderful and fucking horrible, and goddamnit, he just needed to come, needed it, like he had never needed anything before. If he could have made words, he’d have been begging, promising Bucky anything, everything, _please, please, please, god, give it to me, please._

Bucky tugged again, his other hand working over Tony’s cock, easing the ache, but driving his need even higher. Tony moaned, dropped his head, his eyes closing, he couldn’t--

“Tony, head up, baby, I wanna see you come,” Bucky scolded, and he stopped moving again. Tony was straight up going to go into shock if Bucky didn’t stop or if he didn’t keep going, or something, because _Jesus_ … if Tony was a religious man, he might have prayed for it.

Bucky’s hand moved faster, _thank fuck,_ giving him delicious friction. The silicone ring in his mouth bent a little as Tony clamped down with everything in him. He pushed against Bucky’s hand, and a tremor of pure pleasure rippled through him. He lost track of everything except the man who was doing such delicious, wicked things to him. His thighs clenched up and then he was shouting through the gag as his cock fucking exploded. Rapid jets of come spurted out of him. Bucky tugged the beads the rest of the way out and Tony was sobbing with it. Wave after wave of heat coursed down his body as he pulsed and throbbed and shivered his way through his orgasm.

He couldn’t stop mewling, even as Bucky patted his thighs and ran a soothing hand over his back.

“I gotcha, Tony,” Bucky said, and the buckle behind his head was tightened for just a second before it came off. It took a little effort to tip the ring enough to get it out from behind his teeth.

Tony worked his tongue through his mouth, swallowing the remains of spit and come, easing the ache in his jaw. “Oh, god,” Tony managed. “Oh, my god. What did… what did you do to me?”

“Penance,” Bucky said, running one hand over Tony’s jaw, along his chin. “You ready to talk, babydoll?” His stormcloud eyes were satisfied, but also still rich with concern.

Tony swallowed again, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

He let himself relax into it. Bucky would unlock him, wash him off with a warm cloth, rub lotion on his stinging ass, feed him, get him to drink some water. And they would talk. The talk that was so damn hard for Tony to do, and he could get it out.

He’d probably cry, that happened a lot, and Bucky would hold him close while he did it, keep him warm and safe.

And they could talk.

And everything would be okay. Bucky was going to take care of him, because that’s what Bucky did, and Tony would pay him back the only way he knew how. By trusting him. By being honest. By being worthy of the gifts that Bucky gave him.

They would talk.

And everything would be okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did a nod to the OPs request, but leaving a sub alone in bondage stretches even this author’s Risk Awareness. NEVER leave a bound sub alone.
> 
> Oh, and PS -- This is the same Tony/Bucky from I'm in a Hurry (And Don't Know Why)


End file.
